Sunday, April 22, 2007
POEM OF THE WEEK
So intense is this grief,
nothing I have ever felt before comes near it.
Yet by its means I stay alive.
I would be dead by now --
but for this heavy strong pain lying on my heart:
it won't give way to death,
I can't increase nor diminish these wounds.
Pitiless hurt.
Can I defend a heart and soul
so full of anguish?
My heart, my burning soul cannot breathe
outside this fire.
I live on despite myself
And what is my crown of thorns?
I am not able to grieve over my real grief.